


I used to hear a simple song

by Payingthisrent



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'm writing more for this, M/M, Mogens is soft and he doesn't like it, Rating May Change, could be read as gen if you squint, it's really just comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Payingthisrent/pseuds/Payingthisrent
Summary: What was Mogens supposed to do, just let the first real chance at companionship he’d had in a decade sail away looking like the world was crumbling around him? He could have. It would have been so easy to just shut his mouth and ferry the postman and his father back to the mainland, but no, he didn’t.“Well that’s a first-”This entire fic is just going to be Mogens having a crisis, forgive him, he doesn't know how to handle his own feelings.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen/Mogens
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	I used to hear a simple song

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from 'I hear a symphony' by Cody Fry, which I listened to religiously while writing this.
> 
> I already have the majority of a second chapter written for this but I'm marking it as complete just in case, I'm horrible when it comes to stuff like that.

Christmas eve. 

Mogens tended to steer clear of the holidays, too many people running around spreading cheer and whatnot, best to just sit below deck with a bottle of brandy and a decent book like he’d been doing the last few years in Smeerensburg. What he hadn’t expected was for the postman’s father to show up and steal his son away on the night Jesper and Klaus were planning their big gift-giving thing. Mogens had tried to avoid getting too entangled with that one, too much work, but he knew how much the postman had been looking forward to it. It wasn’t hard to see how happy Jesper had gotten over the last few months, he’d stop by the post office to tease the kid and instead of pouting and occasionally throwing a paperweight, Jesper started to return the taunts, his confidence growing every day as he slowly became more comfortable in his own skin. Mogens had to admit, as much as he’d thought the other man was adorable with all his floundering and ineptitude, it was a real nice change to see him actually grow a backbone, not that he’d ever say that to his face. 

The first time it happened had been a few nights into Jesper and Klaus’ breaking and entering adventures; when Mogens showed up to pester the kid he’d just kicked the door closed on his face with a smirk. Later in the day, he’d walked past the office, saw the postman on the porch and decided he’d try again. Although the retorts weren’t all that witty, Jesper was giving as good as he got, even throwing Mogens a friendly punch to the shoulder. Something clicked for him that evening, for the first time in a very long while, Mogens actually felt fondness toward someone, not just the same old satisfaction from teasing the postmen or watching someone slip and fall, this was real affection for another person. 

Holy shit did that scare him.

So when Jesper shuffled onto his boat with that despondent look in his eyes, what was he supposed to do? Just let the first real chance at companionship he’d had in a decade sail away looking like the world was crumbling around him? He could have. It would have been so easy to just shut his mouth and ferry the postman and his father back to the mainland, but no, he didn’t. 

“Well that’s a first-”

  
  


After all the emotions and horrible self-realizations of the previous night, it was good to be able to settle back into his own routine, unbothered by thoughts of postmen. Mogens thought he deserved something nice for (gag) doing the right thing, some fresh pork or maybe even a roast chicken? Who knew, the possibilities were endless. Just thinking about it put an extra spring in his step as he made his way toward the market, till he heard a familiar whimper coming from one of the alleys. 

“Hey, champ, what’re you doing over here?” Mogens swept a cursory look over Jesper, watching as he gasped and hurriedly wiped at his face, trying to hide his tears before he turned to face the sailor. Mogens’ grin flashed in the dim morning light before he fully took in the sight of Jesper and then his face fell. “Jesper. What happened?” Saying the postman’s name aloud tasted sweet and foreign on his tongue, but he’d been too shocked at the picture before him to hold back the slip. Jesper looked down and frowned at his hand, trying to hide it in his lap and avoid Mogens’ eyes. 

The sailor took a slow step toward the postman, who sat on an upturned crate, leaning his back against the wood of the alleyway fence. Jesper’s hand and wrist were a dark purple and dried blood stained his fingertips. Mogens crouched in front of him and gingerly took his hand into his own, Jesper flinched, expecting the other to mock him, it made him wince a little, he knew Jesper had every right to expect that of him but it still hurt. “C’mon.” He said in what he hoped was a soft enough tone, he really didn’t do ‘comforting’ very well. At Jesper’s look of shock, he sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. “Well, I can’t very well patch you up in a dirty alley, now can I princess?” 

Jesper got to his feet, albeit apprehensively and shot a glare at the captain, “I may have tried to stop a sleigh from going over a cliff last night,” He gestured to his hand. “I didn’t really notice it until after everything calmed down.” 

“That wasn’t very clever of you, you coulda gone down with it and then where would we be?” Mogens gently nudged Jesper in the side, keeping his voice as joking as possible. “Smeerensburg would be in shambles without our favourite postman!” He clutched his hand over his heart and dramatically threw his head back, cracking an eye open to peek at Jesper when he heard a quiet chuckle. Mogens thought about continuing his little performance but in an unusual bout of control he just let them move along in companionable silence, at least till he got bored and started whistling a jaunty tune. It was a shanty he’d learned back in some port halfway access the ocean, something about the time flying and rum, the words always slipped his mind but the melody had been catchy enough to stick. He knew Jesper was staring at him, could feel the postman’s eyes boring holes in the back of his head, but Mogens wasn’t exactly the self conscious type. 

“What’s that song?” Jesper piped up at a low point in the tune, before he’d had the chance to start the chorus again. Mogens turned his head a fraction, watching the other fiddle with the strap of his mailbag in his peripheral. He hummed at the question, digging in his deep pockets for a certain silver tin while he spoke.

“I’m gonna be honest with ya sport, I can’t remember the name of it.” His fingers brushed something cold and he snatched the tiny kit with a triumphant smirk. “Been awhile since I’ve heard the words.” Jesper made a quiet noise of disappointment but quickly shrugged it off to peer over Mogens shoulder, curious as to what the sailor was doing. He’d started whistling again, a different song, this one a little sweeter, less about drinking and more about finding a fine lass. A smug look came over his face as he took one of the rolled cigarettes out of the case, pausing the whistling to hold it between his lips while he searched for his lighter.

“You smoke?” The spark of the lighter cut Jesper off and Mogens took a long drag, letting the smoke curl from his mouth with a pleased sigh. He tilted his head and glanced up at Jesper, taking another breath before smiling contentedly, the tobacco warming him.

“Did ya want one?” He gestured toward the lighter and tin still in his other hand, Jesper made a face at that, scrunching his nose up in distaste and shaking his head. “Suit yourself,” Mogens tucked the things back into his pocket and looked around, the two of them were only a few minutes from the docks. He enjoyed his smoke for the rest of the walk, the occasional sniffle from Jesper or a chuckle at a joke in his own head the only sounds to break the relative silence.

“Are we just going to sit on the deck of your boat?” Jesper huffed, finally ruining the peace and quiet. “I mean, no offense but it’s cold and there isn’t a lot of room to actually sit and look at my hand.” When Mogens looked back at him, the postman had that look on his face, it was one Mogens had the privilege of seeing quite often. His eyebrows were furrowed, blue eyes rolling in what seemed like a never-ending cycle, Jesper was the absolute picture of superiority and haughtiness. 

“You’re gonna give yourself a headache if you keep rollin’ your eyes at me like that, sport.” The dock was only a few meters ahead now. Mogens took the last drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and snuffing it into the snow with his boot without breaking his stride. His foot thumped onto the wood of the dock and he sighed happily,  _ home sweet home _ . The smell of the ocean washed over him, brisk and invigorating, just the way he liked it. Mogens had lived in many ports, met thousands of people and surprisingly these most recent years as a ferryman really took the cake. Sure, the town wasn't for everyone, the constant feuds and dreary weather tends to take a toll on a man, but god was it just perfect for him. Something a lot of the postmen never figured out about him was that he wasn't from Smeerensburg. In fact, he'd spent the majority of his life bouncing from trade ship to fishing vessel and back again, he'd even had a short career as a naval officer. This stint was his favourite though, something about the sea this far North just felt different, harsh and bleak, yet so unerringly perfect for him. 

Mogens hopped off the dock, the boat rocked under his feet as he landed on the deck with practiced ease. A smirk grew on his face when he turned to see Jesper awkwardly shuffling on the edge of the pier. “Too scared to board the ferryman’s ship, princess?” He leaned on the gunwale, resting his chin on his hand to leer up at Jesper and waggle his eyebrows lewdly. 

“I’m not scared. Just worried you’re going to push the boat away at the last second and let me fall in the water” He said, looking down at Mogens, both literally and metaphorically. As apprehensively as possible Jesper stepped off the dock and tried to use the edge of the ferry as a stepstool and his foot shot backward, pitching him face-first into Mogens’ gut. It was his own damn fault for trying to catch the other man as Jesper’s momentum caught the sailor off balance and he hit the deck with a low groan, arms uselessly flung around the postman in a futile attempt to make sure he hadn’t smashed into the hard wood with his face. With the wind completely knocked out of him, Mogens could do nothing but lay flat on his back and try to gain his breath. At the soft gasp he raised his head a fraction just to meet Jesper’s eyes and realize he’d been holding the man tight to his middle. He let his arms fall to his sides and dropped his head back with a quiet thud, staring up at the dreary afternoon sky and letting the postman get to his feet first. “I’m sorry.” Jesper had shot up almost as fast as they’d gone down once Mogens had let go of him. “I hadn’t realized it would be slippery.”

“S’not a problem, champ.” His back screamed in protest as he stood and he shot Jesper a sly grin. “Didn’t know you’d be falling for me that quick though, postman,” Jesper sputtered at the insinuation and it spurred Mogens on. “If you wanted to get your hands on me so badly you coulda just asked, I know the ol’ breadbasket might have some extra padding but it ain’t built to take too many knocks like that.” He patted his stomach in emphasis and shot Jesper a wink, leaving him to stammer while Mogens walked over to the hatch that led into the hull.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Jesper cut off his own arguing and came to peer over Mogens shoulder at the trapdoor. 

“Where’d you think I lived, the floor of a bar?” The ladder groaned as he made his way into the small living space in the main mass of the boat. "Don't answer that." He said, toeing off his boots at the bottom and calling up the hole for Jesper to do the same once he’d shut the trap and was down, making his own way toward the cupboard he kept the first aid kit. Mogens heard the soft patter of socked feet on the carpet, sensing Jesper standing behind him looking around the place.

“It’s actually pretty nice in here.” The postman let out an appreciative whistle, stepping back to give Mogens space to stand after grabbing the kit. He automatically sat down when motioned toward the small bolted down table, reaching his injured hand out for Mogens to help tend to it. “I didn’t think you would ever have any interior design sense whatsoever.” He joked, smiling proudly when the sailor laughed. 

“Mm, what can I say? Wouldn’t want to bring any potential lovers back to a dump, now would I?” Jesper was enjoying the easy back and forth, unused to Mogens acting so decent. He was about to make another quip but cut himself off with a hiss as the sailor began to clean the wounds on his hand. “So why didn’t you ask your toymaker to help you out with this? Or at the very least do something instead of crying in some alley,”

Jesper sighed, trying to think of how to explain it. He hadn’t told anybody the full story, the closest he got was telling Margù, but he hadn’t wanted to seem too pathetic so he’d ended up painting himself in a better light. For some reason he felt like Mogens wouldn’t be upset, sure he might tease him, but that was on brand for the man, it wasn’t like he was going to be acting any different by making a few cracks at Jesper’s spoiled life. So he started from the beginning, compelled to tell Mogens everything.

Occasionally Mogens would snort at something he thought was funny or say something stupid but for the most part he just listened. At some point after he had finished wrapping up Jesper’s hand and wrist, he’d gotten up and grabbed him a fleece blanket, throwing it more at his face than his outstretched hands. When Jesper finished his story by retelling what happened the previous night, Mogens nodded kicked him under the table.

“So the big guy had to deal with people in his workshop and instead of following him or going to one of the doctors, you just collapsed on the closest bucket?” Mogens tilted his head questioningly and Jesper nodded in return.

“I would have gotten up eventually, I just needed a breather.” He pulled the blanket tighter around him and shot Mogens a smug look. “Do you have any idea how many houses I delivered presents to last night?  _ The entire town,  _ it’s pretty impressive.” Mogens rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet.

“D’you want some tea Mr. Impressive?” He was already pulling out cups before Jesper could answer, setting them on the table and turning to fill up the water in the kettle.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Is this a ploy to get me to lower my guard so you can push me off the boat or something?" Jesper was starting to feel weird about how out of character this all was, fancy decorating, bandages and blankets, and now tea. Mogens just sighed as he put the kettle on the burner, turning to face Jesper with a grin.

"Nah, it must be something about the holidays, making this tired ol' sailor feel far too sentimental and all that junk." He'd meant for that to sound sarcastic, mocking the hallmark cliché but he inwardly cringed at how sincere it ended up sounding. Jesper smiled softly, toying with the edge of the blanket around his shoulder with his good hand. Mogens quickly looked back at the stovetop, unwilling to address the fluttering that the sight stirred up in the pit of his stomach

"Well it's good to know you can actually feel other emotions, I was starting to worry that you only functioned between nasty and tired." That made Mogens glance up from the stove incredulously, just to see Jesper sticking his tongue out at him, clearly joking. He snorted and turned around, flipping Jesper off over his shoulder. The kettle whistled and he quickly took it off the heat and poured the water into the cups he'd already lined up on the small rickety table. Letting Jesper choose from the miserable selection of tea he’d thrown in a tupperware and mostly drank during bad hangovers and illnesses. Without much thought he was pulling out his flask and adding some whiskey to make his tea a hot toddy. Jesper reached out to rifle through the container but knocked over one of the bottles of rubbing alcohol that hadn’t been put away, the liquid quickly soaked into the front of his coat. “Oh damnit,” He started to pull the jacket off but hadn’t managed to get it off in time working with one less hand than usual and it managed to leak into the shirt underneath. “You uh, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra shirt or something I could borrow do you?” Mogens shrugged and walked toward the bedroom portion of the space, pulling out an extra sweater from his dresser and turning around to catch a glimpse of Jesper struggling to pull his shirt off with one hand.

“Need a hand with that, princess?” He teased, setting the sweater beside Jesper and reaching for a tea towel to wipe up the rest of the spill. When he turned to make another crack at the other man he stopped short. His knit sweater was far too big for Jesper, making him seem small and delicate despite being taller than Mogens, he’d bunched the fabric up his arms to keep the loose fabric from slipping down his hands and his hair was tousled from the struggle to remove his own shirt. 

“Ooh, this is soft!” Mogens just nodded and took a swig of his spiked tea while Jesper made himself comfortable in the seat and grabbed his own cup. The pair began to talk again while they drank their drinks, joking with each other easily until a few hours had passed and the sun began to make its way down the sky. Jesper had begun to yawn, burying himself into the collar of the borrowed knit sweater as his eyes began to drift shut. “I’m sorry, I really don’t get enough sleep nowadays.” Mogens shrugged with a grin and tilted his head toward his bunk, a small twin sized bed covered in quilts. “Wh-”

“I need to clean up anyways, you’re clearly not walking anywhere right now.” Jesper looked like he was going to say no for a moment before he yawned again. “Just go hit the hay, Mr. Postman. No funny business, I promise.” He jokingly held out his pinky to make an oath and Jesper took it, intertwining their littlest fingers together with a nod before he drifted toward the bed and buried himself in the quilts and pillows.

Mogens sat at the table by himself for a moment, just staring at the empty spot where Jesper had sat just moments before. Chuckling to himself with a stupid smirk, he really was growing soft, wasn’t he?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! This will probably have another couple of chapters coming out pretty soon where Mogens actually lets himself examine his feelings instead of bottling them up and badly flirting with Jesper as a coping mechanism, I guess I also have to resolve the issue that is Jesper is still in Mogens' fucking bed. 
> 
> Anyways, like I said, I hope you enjoyed and come back for more if I post another chapter :)  
> -Jack


End file.
